


string along my soul, dear, 'til my breath feels useless

by MagicaLyss



Series: Bluer Than The Sky (Whumptober 2019) [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Near Death, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Stab Wound, Swearing, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 21:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21004217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaLyss/pseuds/MagicaLyss
Summary: Whumptober Day Eight - Stab WoundIt’s not surprising when he gets a call from Peter around noon that day.He’s sitting out on the back deck, a glass of lemonade on the table beside him, a pair of sunglasses, for once being used for their purpose. Morgan’s playing by her tent, following all the rules of playing outside, Tony hasn’t had to remind her once.“Hey, Pete. Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you for another couple hours. Thought you had that project you were working on with that new friend of yours,” Tony says peacefully.But his peace is almost instantly broken.





	string along my soul, dear, 'til my breath feels useless

Tony had been having a relatively good day, all things considered.  
  


Morgan had slept in more than she usually does. It’s the weekend, so they don’t have any responsibilities beyond the weekly tea party and swimming. (Tony doesn’t know how he’ll break it to Morgan that by the end of September, it’ll be too cold to go swimming in the lake. For now, he’ll let her swim to her heart’s desire, though.)  
  


The only thing that really burdens him a little bit on this fine Saturday, is how much he misses two of the most important people in his life. Peter’s off at MIT, having the time of his life according to their call last night, and Pepper’s been busy upstate with the company for the past few days. Some big emergency they needed her for.  
  


Tony’s more than capable of taking care of Morgan by himself, despite what lots of people believe. He doesn’t _need _Pepper or Peter to help him, he just enjoys it a little bit more when he doesn’t constantly have to be the responsible adult.  
  


“Daddy?” Morgan says. She’s lying flat on her back on the carpet in the living room, coffee table pushed to the side so she can see through the skylight he added when building the house. (Mostly he was thinking about Peter’s love of space.)  
  


“Yes?” Tony replies, turning his full attention on Morgan.  
  


She turns to him, eyes big and sparkling in the sunlight. “Why is the sky blue?”  
  


Tony smiles. “Because I said so.”  
  


“That’s a lie,” Morgan replies, rolling her eyes. “Why is it actually?”  
  


“Because Mom said so?” Tony tries. He could try to explain, and he’ll probably tell her for bedtime stories tonight, but she’s had too much energy this morning to really hear his explanations.  
  


Morgan thinks about it for a long few moments, eyes squinted in concentration before she nods decisively. “Okay.”  
  


“Why does Mom get to make the rules, but I don’t?” It’s meant to be a rhetorical question, but Morgan stares at him perplexed.  
  


“Because Mommy is… She’s mommy. She makes _all_ the rules.”  
  


“And what? I’m just her servant? I don’t get to do anything?”  
  


Morgan nods. “Obviously. Mommy’s the Queen, I’m the princess, Petey’s the prince, and you’re the horsey.”  
  


“I’m the _horse_. Oh my god, child, why are you so mean to me?” Tony gasps, pretending to be offended by his daughter’s words.  
  


Morgan sits up, rolling her eyes again. It makes her look so much like Pepper. “Can we go swimming?”  
  


“It’s barely nine in the morning, _piccola_. You wanna help me make pancakes for breakfast?”  
  


“Only if there’s chocola’e chips!”  
  


  
*

It’s not surprising when he gets a call from Peter around noon that day.  
  


He’s sitting out on the back deck, a glass of lemonade on the table beside him, a pair of sunglasses, for once being used for their purpose. Morgan’s playing by her tent, following all the rules of playing outside, Tony hasn’t had to remind her once.  
  


“Hey, Pete. Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you for another couple hours. Thought you had that project you were working on with that new friend of yours,” Tony says peacefully.  
  


But his peace is almost instantly broken.  
  


“Tony?” Peter’s voice is too quiet, fear filling the short syllable to the very brim. He coughs, crackling in the phone.  
  


“Pete?” Tony echoes, worry very suddenly coloring his voice. He sits up in his chair, keeping his eyes trained on Morgan. “Everything okay?”  
  


“I- I-” There’s an awful choking noise and then static fills the phone.  
  


“Fuck, jesus fuck- FRI, get it- fix the connection. Get Peter back on the line,” Tony demands. With the hand not holding the phone, he waves Morgan over urgently. He needs to get to Peter.  
  


A parental instinct has filled his chest and all he knows is that he needs Peter. Now. And there’s no way in hell he’s letting Morgan be anywhere but at his side.  
  


Morgan doesn’t say anything as she warily wanders over, somehow understanding her father’s fear and seriousness.  
  


“Grab a backpack, honey. We’re going on a little trip, okay?” Tony tells his daughter, waiting anxiously for the phone call to reconnect. “Put your shoes on and wait at the front door for me, okay, _piccola_?”  
  


“Wha’s wrong?” Morgan asks, eyes wide and scared. Tony hates it and he hates that he doesn’t even have the mind to fix the fear, he’s too busy focusing on his other kid. “Okay?”  
  


“Yeah, it’s okay, little miss. Go get a backpack and your shoes on.”  
  


This time, Morgan doesn’t try to ask any more questions, just races into the house. Almost as soon as she’s gone, the call finally reconnects.  
  


“Peter? C’mon, kiddo, talk to me,” Tony begs, following his kid into the house on shaky legs. He needs to find car keys. One step at a time.  
  


“M’ster S’ark?” Peter slurs through the phone, crackly and thick.  
  


“Yeah, kid. I’m right here. I need you to talk to me. What’s going on?”  
  


Peter makes a noise, somewhere between pleased and pained, if that’s even possible. “’m sorry.”  
  


“Why are you sorry, Pete? What’s going on? Please, kid, I need to work with something here.” He pulls the phone away enough to speak to FRIDAY without Peter hearing. “FRI, hack into Peter’s watch or his phone or something and get me his vitals. And his location. Just because I live in a cabin does not mean I’m not Tony fucking Stark.”  
  


“He is located in Massachusetts. A block away from his dorm building on campus,” FRIDAY informs. “I am unable to reach his watch or any accurate vitals from his phone.”  
  


“Fuck, shit, jesus christ, Peter, what the fuck happened?” Tony knows he shouldn’t be swearing this much in front of both his kids, but he can’t help it. His stress levels are through the roof and he’s scared one of his children are _dying_, he thinks that warrants a little bit of cussing.  
  


“Hurts, please,” Peter cries, sounding more like Morgan than himself with how whiny his voice has gotten. “Please, m’s’er s’ark, _please_.”  
  


Tony finally finds his keys and shoves on a pair of shoes, keeping up a litany of reassurances and soothing words, getting to the car at the same time Morgan comes racing out of the house, an Elmo backpack bouncing on her back.  
  


“Peter, I need you to listen to me, okay?” Tony says, starting up the car, and barely having the mind to check and make sure Morgan’s strapped into her seat, before he takes off down the street.  
  


Peter makes a noise of affirmation.  
  


“You know how long it takes to get to Massachusetts? We timed it, remember?”  
  


“Mm,” Peter says, probably not coherent enough to remember any specific numbers. Three hours and forty-seven minutes, remember?” Tony says. He continues without waiting for a response. “Be honest with me, bambino, can you wait nearly four hours for me?”  
  


Peter sobs in response, broken and hopeless. “Hurts, T’ny. Can’t- I can’t-”  
  


“Okay, kiddie, okay,” Tony says, nearly crying himself, but he can’t afford to cry. If he cries, Morgan might freak, and that’ll make Peter feel worse, and Tony can’t possibly to deal with both of his kids at the same time.  
  


“Petey okay?” Morgan says. She has her tablet in her hands, playing a game already, but the worry is still marring her innocent face.  
  


“Yeah, it’s okay, honey,” Tony says quickly. He’s already on the verge of panicking, he needs to focus and drive. “Pete, kiddo, I love you, okay? But I have to get off the phone for just a second, okay? I have an idea. I’ll call you back in just a second.”  
  


“Mmkay,” Peter slurs.  
  


“Don’t fall asleep, kid, please. I’ll call you right back.”  
  


He hangs up the phone as he merges onto the highway, speeding the car up to at least 1.5x the speed limit, trying his best to keep his eyes on the road as he dials a new number.  
  


“Hey, Tony, I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you for at least-”  
  


“Fuck, Steve, where are you?” Tony demands, jerking the wheel to stay in his lane. His kid sounds like he’s dying and he’s four hours away. Fuck everything. “Please tell me you’re near Massachusetts.”  
  


Steve doesn’t respond for too long and Tony worries he’s going to need to pull over, tears blurring his vision.  
  


“Sam and Bucky are in New Hampshire, Dover, if that helps,” Steve finally says, “I’m in Brooklyn. They had to go on Shield business.”  
  


“Tell them to drop everything. And I mean _everything_ and get their asses to MIT. Peter called me and he’s hurt and fuck- I’m too far and he needs help, Steve. Please.”  
  


Morgan gasps in the back of the car. “You lied? Petey hurt?”  
  


“Yeah, of course, Tony. They can be there in like half an hour if they take the bike. Text me the coordinates.”  
  


Tony hangs up and drops his phone into the passenger seat, knowing FRIDAY will take over with everything else. He focuses his attention on the road, steadily climbing in speed. He doesn’t care if Sam and Bucky can be there for his kid, _he _needs to be there for his kid.  
  


Finally, the call reconnects.  
  


Tony slips the Bluetooth piece into his ear to make sure Morgan doesn’t have to hear Peter’s end of the conversation.  
  


“Pete, kiddo, talk to me,” Tony begs, glad he’s got FRIDAY on his side. A car honks at him as he swerves into another lane to avoid having to slow down. He’s putting Morgan in danger by driving so recklessly, but he can’t stop-  
  


Peter doesn’t respond, only sobs in response, an awful gut-wrenching noise that makes Tony want to explode.  
  


“Daddy?” Morgan pipes up from the backseat. She looks too old all of a sudden, no longer with the six-year-old bright innocence, but more like Pepper, face drawn in worry and fear. “You’re going too fast.”  
  


“It’s like a rollercoaster, Morguna,” Tony replies half-heartedly, too focused on Peter and his cries of pain.  
  


Morgan’s face crumples. “I don’t like ro’ercoas’ers.”  
  


His knuckles are white from how tight he’s gripping the steering wheel and the cars are honking and Morgan’s starting to cry and Peter’s choking on his sobs and Tony can’t breathe-  
  


He swerves too suddenly, slamming on the brakes, his heart aches when he hears Morgan let out a whine of surprise at the sudden movement. As soon as the car is stopped, he mutes his end of the earpiece and falls onto the gravel on the side of the road.  
  


His body won’t stop shaking, he can’t stop thinking that his kid is _dead _or at least will be if he doesn’t make it there to him and he’s going to kill his other kid with his reckless driving or he’ll get arrested and he’ll never make it to Peter.  
  


And then, like a beacon of hope, a second car pulls up behind them, and Rhodey’s running towards him.  
  


“You need to breathe, Tony. C’mon,” Rhodey says, dropping to the ground beside Tony. “What the hell is going on?”  
  


“Peter- he-”  
  


“Breathe first, Tones. I know you can do it.” Hands are on his shoulder and chest and then the earpiece is gone, taking Peter’s cries away with it. “Breathe.”  
  


It takes a few panicked minutes before Tony finally has his breathing under control, but when he does, he’s immediately reaching for the little white piece again.  
  


“Tell me what’s going on first,” Rhodey demands.  
  


“Pete- the kid, he’s hurt. He’s- I don’t know. I have to get him. I have to- I-”  
  


“Barnes sent a message,” FRIDAY interrupts. “_We’re on our way. ETA twenty minutes. Stay calm. I’ll fill you in as soon as I can_.”  
  


Rhodey offers a reassuring smile. “Barnes is getting him. It’s okay, Tony. It’s all fine. You just need to breathe and apologizing for scaring the little one.”  
  


“He’s _my _kid!” Tony’s hands flail with his sudden anger, nearly hitting Rhodey. “I should be- I should- He could be _dead_, and I- I’m not there for him.”  
  


Rhodey’s hands are grounding and strong on his shoulders. “He’s okay. He’s Peter Parker. He’s made it through a shitload so far, this won’t be the end, Tones. He’s going to be okay. He always is.”  
  


And even if his words might make sense, Tony can’t comprehend much more than the idea that Peter’s hurt and alone.  
  


Eventually, Rhodey convinces Tony up off the gravel and into the backseat of the car, pushing the earpiece into his best friend’s hand.  
  


“I’ll drive. You take care of your kids,” Rhodey instructs and the car takes off again, nowhere near as fast as Tony was going, but still fast enough, Tony hopes.  
  


“Peter?” he calls out gently when he gets the earpiece in again. “Pete, you with me?”  
  


Peter’s making a scary gurgling noise, breaths few and far between. “T’ny- T’ny- _Please-_”  
  


“I’m right here, bambino,” Tony reassures, keeping one of his hands holding onto Morgan’s. “I’m right here, I promise. You’re going to be just fine.”  
  


Peter coughs wetly and when he gets control again, he sounds hopeless. “’m sorry. I- I love you. I need- I don’t-”  
  


“You’re okay, kid. I promise. Everything’s going to be okay. Just hang on for another few minutes, okay? Bucky and Sam are going to get to you and I’m coming too, okay? I just-”  
  


Tony’s voice is cut off by a blood-curdling, desperate cry from Peter’s end.  
  


“Fuck, you were supposed to die. You’ve seen my face. You- you know things you shouldn’t,” a new voice is saying, far away from Peter’s phone. “You were supposed to stay quiet.”  
  


“Please,” Peter begs, voice wavering. “I don’t- I don’t wanna die. Please.”  
  


“Maybe you should’ve thought about that sooner.”  
  


“Please-”  
  


The line turns to static.

  
*

It takes too long. Much, much too long to arrive to the hospital near the campus.  
  


Tony and Rhodey have been to this hospital one too many times, not for Peter but for Tony’s drunken nights taken too far back when they were in MIT.  
  


Morgan clings onto Tony, arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala, as they rush into the hospital together. Her face stays hidden in the crook of his neck and he vaguely worries what kind of emotional toll this is going to take on her in the future.  
  


“Stark, thank god you’re here,” Sam says, standing from one of the waiting room chairs.  
  


"Where’s Peter? Where’s my kid?” Tony says, voice falling into a plead. “Please, is he okay?”  
  


Bucky stands, bloodshot eyes finding Tony’s. “We don’t know yet. They took him into the ER, and we haven’t heard anything since. It was- It wasn’t great, if I’m being honest. But I think, I hope, he’ll be okay.”  
  


Tony almost drops Morgan when he sees the blood caked under their nails and staining their hands, nearly up to their elbows in blood. _Peter’s _blood. Their clothing is bloodstained too, covering them from head to toe in blood. So much fucking blood.  
  


Rhodey quickly takes Morgan from Tony, and Sam and Bucky gently help him sit in a chair.  
  


“He’s going to be okay,” Sam says. “He’ll be just fine.”  
  


Tony wants to argue, but there’s no fight left in him. He doesn’t even want to think about the possibilities. He has to be okay. There’s no other option.  
  


  
*

“C’mon, Tony. Up and at ‘em,” Rhodey says, shaking Tony’s shoulder.  
  


The billionaire shoots awake, rubbing his eyes. “Is he okay? Do we know-”  
  


“Before you have an aneurysm, yes, Peter’s okay. They’re letting us go see him,” he says.  
  


“Where’s Morgan?” Tony demands, finally feeling a little bit of relief loosen his chest.  
  


Rhodey helps Tony to his feet. “Pepper came and took her home. Said you were absolutely insane for taking her all the way down here, but she’s not mad. Sam and Bucky are staying at a nearby hotel for the night. C’mon, room one eighteen.”  
  


The door pushes open with a soft creak, revealing a hospital room not too different from the ones Tony remembers waking up in all the time after binge-drinking or OD-ing. He walks into the room, wincing at the stained blue tiles under his shoes. He only now realizes he’s wearing a pair of Peter’s high tops.  
  


Peter looks much, much worse for wear. An oxygen mask covers the majority of his face, strapped in place and pushing his hair down in weird places. His eyes are closed, but   
there’re dark shadows underneath them and visible, recent tear-streaks down his cheeks.  
  


His shirt is gone, revealing a thick wad of bandages in the center of his chest. There are some leftover streaks of dried blood over his stomach. A hospital gown is pushed down to his waist, away from the wound on his chest and his legs are covered by a thick heating blanket.  
  


The worst, though, is the thick bandages encircling Peter’s throat, blood dotting through the white gauze.  
  


“What happened to him?” Tony asks slowly, refusing to move any closer.  
  


Rhodey’s face is drawn, forehead creasing. “Police checked the security tapes. Peter was walking home when he was stopped in an alleyway. A mugging. His wallet and watch were taken. Peter tried to fight back, you know, with his training, but he didn’t realize the man had a knife. Stabbed him right in the middle. Punctured one of his lungs and narrowly missed the other. The mugger came back for whatever reason and when he saw Peter was still alive…”  
  


“He- fuck, Rhodey, _his throat_?” Tony exclaims, voice breaking. “How is he not-”  
  


“Bucky and Sam got there right when it happened. They fought the mugger, nearly killed him with how angry they were. They helped stop the bleeding and got Peter here in just enough time.”  
  


Tony’s knees are shaking and the last thing he needs is to collapse right now, so he forces himself to take the few extra steps to get to Peter’s bedside and sit in the chair.  
  


Peter’s eyes blink open almost instantly like he could sense Tony’s presence. His eyes widen, panic glazing over him. He tries to push himself up, a hand fumbling for his oxygen mask and for his neck, but the movement obviously pulls at something because he cries out quietly in pain behind the oxygen mask.  
  


“Hey, hey, hey, woah there, Pete. You’re okay,” Tony murmurs, gently pushing on Peter’s shoulders to get him lying down. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital, but I’m here now, okay?”  
  


Peter opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t from behind the mask. His eyes are welling with tears and it hurts Tony so badly to see him hurting, but at least he’s safe. At least he’s alive.  
  


“You’re okay, bambino. You’re okay,” Tony repeats, gently pressing a kiss to Peter’s forehead and taking his hand. “It’s alright now, you can breathe, kid. Relax.”  
  


The fight and tension leaves Peter’s body on command, slumping into the bed. His fingers fumble with Tony’s until he can tap on Tony’s palm.  
  


H.U.R.T.S  
  


“I know it hurts, kiddo. Your spidey-metabolism probably isn’t very good for these drugs, huh. But I planned for that, don’t you worry,” Tony says, digging through his pockets until he finds a hand-sized needle. “Bruce whipped this up for you a few months ago. Rhodey, you wanna do the honors?”  
  


Rhodey doesn’t _want to_, but he will. And once the drugs have been injected into Peter’s arms, he excuses himself, saying he should probably call everyone and let them know the kid’s okay.  
  


T.O.N.Y  
  


“Yeah, bambino, I’m right here. You’re going to be okay. You’re safe now.”  
  


S.C.A.R.E.D  
  


D.O.N.T W.A.N.T. D.I.E  
  


“You’re not going to die, kid. Not on my watch. I told you I’d protect you, and I will. Even if I have to do it through the other avengers. How would you feel about in impromptu vacation once you’re healed? Maybe Italy? May, Morgan, me, you, and Pepper. Italy for a few weeks. That sounds nice. Didn’t think my heart could deal with that kinda stress anymore, but I guess we’re all full of surprises, huh?”  
  


There are a few seconds of nothing from Peter before he taps three times on Tony’s palm. It’s his way of saying _I love you_. They’ve been doing it since after the snap and Tony was the bedridden one. Peter would tap three times against Tony’s real hand.  
  


Tony taps three times in response eliciting a little smile from behind the oxygen mask.  
  


T.H.A.N.K.S  
  


“You never have to thank me for helping you, kid. I wish it would be about crushes or homework, but I’m here for you, Pete. Always.”  
  


Peter taps three times again.  
  


“I love you too, kid. Get some rest.”  
  


N.I.G.H.T  
  


Followed by three more taps.  
  


“I get it, kid, we’re sappy and lovey, but seriously, Goodnight. I love you too.”  
  


Tony doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of saying it. 


End file.
